


What's Coming to Them

by glasssmoothie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Parent John Winchester, Comedy, Fluff, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, past angst, post 15x20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29216376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasssmoothie/pseuds/glasssmoothie
Summary: Dean and Cas have settled into Heaven, and are living there happily. However, neither of them like the idea of their boyfriend's past tormentor being so nearby, and decide to take matters into their own hands.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 136





	What's Coming to Them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darksidedawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksidedawn/gifts), [mentallyincali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mentallyincali/gifts).



> I finished this at one in the morning and did not reread it or make any revisions so this might be trash, have fun :)

Dean had finally gotten used to being in Heaven. He’d wake up next to Cas, try to sneak out of bed without waking him up (he always failed), make breakfast, and then he and Cas would drive around all day, visiting friends, pulling over at viewpoints that always seemed to match exactly what he was in the mood to see, going fishing, drinking beer from a cooler in the backseat that never seemed to run out of ice or beverages or snacks, then return to their cabin in the woods and make dinner and watch old westerns and head to bed. Always the same, always perfect. A lot of the time, the two of them wouldn’t even talk, but just revel in each others’ company. 

It must have been years– but what did time matter when they had eternity?– before the topic came up. 

“I didn’t actually build this part,” Cas said, nodding to the river they were fishing out of. It was wide and slow, and Dean could see a group of kids off in the distance, playing in the water. 

“No?” Dean replied lazily. He leaned over to turn down the music playing from the boombox set between them, and grabbed his beer from where it was set down at his feet. 

“No, Naomi did.” Dean choked at the mention of her. 

“Naomi?” 

“Yes.” Cas sighed. “I had thought she was dead, but it turns out she survived when Metatron stabbed her in the head with a needle.” 

“Damn,” Dean replied, eyebrows raised in casual surprise. 

“It was quite a shock to me as well. I was much more comfortable with her dead, after all she did…” Cas trailed off, lost in horrific memories. He shook his head, as if shaking off the memories. “But, Heaven needs angels, even ones like Naomi who torture the free will out of angels.” 

“Excuse me?” Dean’s voice was sharp, and it took Cas by surprise. 

“I– Well– You remember when I was forced to spy on you and Sam, right?” Cas stuttered, not really wanting to tell Dean this story– but they were bound to come around to it eventually, it might as well happen now. 

“Yes.” 

“Well, she… felt that I had become estranged from Heaven, so she…” he tilted his head from side to side, trying to come up with the right word, “reformed me. So that I would follow her orders.” 

Dean looked ready to kill. “Reformed you?” 

Cas wouldn’t look at Dean. “A little bit of… reprogramming, I guess you could call it. Trying to set me back to default settings.” 

“And how did she go about this?” 

“She…” Cas hated to remember this, but he supposed that Dean should know. “She made me kill you. Fake versions of you. Hundreds, maybe a thousand, I don’t know. Not to mention the lobotomies.” He glanced over at Dean, whose face had gone red with rage. He could almost imagine that the black demon eyes were back. 

“She tortured you.” 

“It was years ago.” 

“She tortured you!” 

“She also got me out of Purgatory.” 

“Don’t make excuses for that monster.” 

“What, like you do for John?” 

Dean looked as though he had been slapped in the face. “That’s–” 

“It’s not different, and you know it.” Cas gave him a stern look. “I saw your memories when I raised you from Hell. I know what he’s done to you.” Dean opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again, knowing that Cas was right. But his not arguing didn’t change the fact that Cas’ abuser was walking around Heaven to bump into him at any time, and that did not sit well with Dean at all. 

Cas was having similar thoughts about John. He had put John in Dean’s Heaven, knowing that Dean would never knowingly allow his father to rot in Hell. The man felt too responsible for his father’s death, and besides, he had sacrificed himself for Dean. That was something Cas could have respected. But that didn’t mean he should be allowed to fully enjoy this paradise. An idea occurred to him. 

A similar idea occurred to Dean. 

The sun (was it the sun? Dean had meant to ask Cas about that) had taken on a more orange hue, so they packed up their fishing gear and drove back to the cabin, neither noticing how deep in thought the other was. In silence, they unloaded the gear in the garage and headed into the cabin. Dean was not in the mood to cook tonight, but hey, this was Heaven, so there was a box of delivery pizza ready for them on the table. They ate in silence for a while before Dean spoke up. 

“Is there, like, a head office for angels?” 

Cas frowned. “Yes, but the doors are hidden from souls. Angels know where they are, though.” He froze. “Why?” 

“No reason,” Dean said quickly, turning his gaze back to his pizza. He knew that Cas probably suspected what he was thinking, but the angel said nothing about it as they finished dinner. They left the pizza box on the table when they got up to get ready for bed, knowing that due to it being Heaven and all, everything would be cleaned up in the morning. 

***

The next morning, Cas was gone. This didn’t surprise Dean all that much; Cas sometimes disappeared when Jack felt a miracle should be performed. Despite his speech about non-interference, he occasionally used Cas as a loophole to answer a well-deserved prayer here and there. Besides, the guy had his wings back, and Dean knew how much Cas loved to fly. 

This was fine by Dean. He had some business to attend to, and he didn’t really want Cas to know about it. He got dressed, skipped breakfast, knowing that he didn’t really need to eat anyway, and drove the Impala to the Roadhouse. He knew exactly who would be able to find the doors to Heaven’s head office. 

Meanwhile, Cas was not, in fact, on Earth. Jack had not called him away, though he knew Dean would likely assume that was the case. He stood outside the two-story house by the lake, occupied by John and Mary Winchester. He watched, invisible to the couple inside, as John walked out the back door, his hands resting in his pockets. Dean’s father stood there for a while, staring out over the sparkling lake, happy and at peace. Cas wanted to smite him, but that would only anger Dean, and Dean did not need to suffer any more. But John did. 

John made his way down the sloped lawn to a small dock, and got into a small rowboat. He began to row across the lake, and Cas walked to the edge of the lake, determined not to let him out of his sight. When John was in the middle of the lake, Cas spread his wings, and soared slowly toward the little boat, letting his wingtips drag in the water. John saw the disturbance in the water, though Cas remained invisible, and he relished the look of fear on the man’s face. He lifted himself higher just a moment before he would have capsized the boat, then turned and made his way back to shore. He watched as John looked all around, worked into a frenzy, trying to find the monster that was going to sink his boat. He found that he could not suppress a grin. 

At the Roadhouse, things were going well for Dean, too. 

“So, what is it you want with Head Office?” Ash asked amiably, hitting one final button with a victorious flourish. Dean wasn’t sure what was going on on the screen, what with all the numbers and letters, but he figured that Ash had found it. 

“Just, uh… some old scores to settle,” Dean replied vaguely. He gripped his angel blade tighter. He had asked Cas if he could keep one, just in case, and Cas had obliged, saying that he’d gladly hand it over if it made Dean feel safer. 

“Couldn’t get Cas on board?” Ellen asked, suspicion abundant in her voice. Dean avoided looking at her, though he knew she was probably drying a pint glass with more attitude than should have been possible. 

“Cas is on other business.” It wasn’t really a lie, so Dean figured he could get away with it. “So, where’s this door?” 

“Back door of the Roadhouse. Just programmed it. It’ll switch locations in about three minutes, though, so you should get going.” 

“Great work, Ash.” 

“Hey, no problem.” 

“Be careful,” Ellen called as he walked briskly past the bar and through the kitchen. He pushed open the door and found himself in 

an office. The walls were so bright, they almost hurt Dean’s eyes. Except for the back wall, which was made of panels that lit up with colored lights. The desk to his right was empty. 

Fine by him. He could wait. 

He made his way to the office chair, made of white fabric (did they make them in white on Earth? Dean had never seen a white office chair on Earth) and sat down in it, lifting his boots onto the pristine white desk. He hoped that Cas was still busy with his Earth business so he would not be pulled from lying in wait. 

Cas was thinking the same thing. He watched as Mary kissed a rather jarred John goodbye, on her way to catch up with some girlfriends over coffee. Perfect. John made his way back into the house, glancing at the lake as he went. He locked the door behind him. 

A futile gesture. Surely John knew that front door locks didn’t work on angels. But of course, he had never really gotten the “most angels are great big bags of dicks” talk. Cas knew that he was the exception to those talks, since they had been coming from Sam and Dean, but he came from the same stock. He could be a dick when he wanted to be. 

With little more than a thought, he was in the kitchen. Still invisible, he watched as John poured himself a large glass of whiskey and downed it all in one go. Cas waited until he sighed in relief, a sign that the alcohol was taking effect, then healed John, flushing the alcohol from his system. John frowned, poured himself another drink, and downed the glass again. Cas sobered him again. Perhaps he should have let John get drunk, but Heaven did not allow hangovers. 

When John poured his third glass, Cas appeared to him. John yelled and dropped the glass, and it shattered on the floor. Cas watched idly as John grabbed a knife from the knife block on the counter behind him and stabbed him in the chest. He was hit with a very brief wave of nostalgia, recalling when Dean had done the same, but staring at the man who had left so many scars on Dean’s beautiful soul, it washed away quickly. 

John stared up at him with fear. “Who– What are you?” 

Cas smiled. “My name is Castiel.” 

“Oh.” John visibly relaxed. “Dean’s friend.” 

“Friend. Sure.” He recalled some of the memories he had seen of Dean’s teenage years, and decided against correcting him. “He doesn’t know I’m here though.” 

Fear crept back onto John’s face. “Oh?” 

“I assume he told you that I rescued him from Hell?” 

“Yes he did,” John replied warily. 

“In the process of reassembling his soul and body, I became very familiar with the his memories, especially the ones that scarred his soul,” Cas continued, staring John down, “I had to differentiate between the ones that had been inflicted upon him by Alastair, and the ones inflicted upon him… prior to his time below.” John’s face went pale. “So I hope you understand why I am about to do this.” 

Before confusion could register on John’s face, Cas caught him in the cheek with a swift right hook. He tumbled to the floor, which Cas realized was covered in broken glass and whiskey. John groaned and hissed at the cuts in his hands that stung with alcohol, and brought a hand up to the already purpling bruise on his face. Cas picked him up by the front of his shirt with one hand and slammed him into the wall. John gasped, the wind knocked out of him, and kicked at Cas’s knees, but Castiel was an angel of the Lord, and John Winchester was not strong enough to kick his legs from under him. With almost no effort, Cas tossed John to the floor, causing him to skid over the mess of glass and whiskey and crash into the fridge. He groaned and coughed, spattering blood onto the floor. 

Cas figured that was enough for one day. He walked over to John, who raised his hands protectively over his face as Cas lifted him to his feet. He recalled that Dean had planned to have dinner with Mary tonight, so as an afterthought, healed John’s wounds. John stared at him in confusion as he pressed his hands to his unsullied face. 

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone,” Cas whispered, leaning in close, “I will show you what it really means to invoke the wrath of Heaven.” John’s eyes widened in fear, and he nodded curtly. With one mighty flap of his wings, Cas was gone. 

Up in the offices of Heaven, Dean waited patiently. He lifted his head when he heard the sound of high heels echoing through the halls. 

Naomi froze when she entered her office and saw none other than Dean Winchester sitting with his dirty work boots propped on her desk. He grinned fiendishly at her, spinning an angel blade in his hand. 

“Dean Winchester.” Dean noted the slight tinge of fear in her voice with glee. 

“Hiya,” he replied, still spinning the blade in his hand. 

“Why are you here?” she asked, tilting her chin upward. 

“Can’t a guy say hello to an old acquaintance?” 

“I don’t recall that we were very well acquainted.” 

Dean shrugged. “Fair enough.” He stood from the desk and walked slowly to the door, closing it with a satisfying snap. 

“Why are you here?” Naomi asked again. 

“I learned something very interesting today,” Dean said. “I learned that you– you, personally– lobotomized angels in order to reform them.” He stopped spinning his blade, catching it in a fighting grip. He raised his arms in a fake shrug. “I wanted to hear if it’s true.” 

Naomi straightened her shoulders and stared at Dean defiantly. “Yes,” she replied, “It’s true.” She smiled, and though Dean could tell she intended for it to appear malicious, he could see the fear in it. “But you only care about one angel, if I’m not mistaken.” 

Dean chuckled. “You got me,” he conceded, the threatening tone in his voice never wavering. “And I heard you had a very special regime for this angel.” 

“Ah, yes.” Naomi took a step toward Dean, but he didn’t balk. “How I’d love to see you dead on the floor for the, mmmm, six hundred and twenty-fourth time.” 

“I only need to see you dead once,” Dean replied, grinning. 

He swung the angel blade, but Naomi was ready with her own blade. The clash rang through Dean’s ears, but he barreled forward anyway, letting his rage fuel him. He slammed her into the wall with the light paneling, shattering the glass. She yelled with rage as he twisted her sword arm, causing her to drop her blade. It clattered to the floor as Dean grabbed her throat. Using the blunt end of the blade, since his fists would not work on an angel, he pounded at her face, leaving angry red and purple bruises and giving her a bloody nose. 

All of a sudden, a hand was wrapped around his wrist, preventing him from injuring the angel further. He turned quickly, infuriated and ready to attack. 

It was Jack. He relaxed instantly, and released his hold on Naomi. She slid to the floor, gasping. Jack watched her with mild confusion, then turned to Dean. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Good to see you too, kiddo.” 

Jack frowned at him. “Dean.” 

Dean sighed. “The bitch put Cas through Hell for almost a year, tortured him, physically and mentally. I’m just…” he paused, searching for the right phrasing, “giving her Hell back.” 

Jack turned to look at Naomi, pondering for a moment. Then he snapped his fingers, and she was gone. 

He turned back to Dean, a hard look on his face. “An eternity in Heaven’s prison should do her some good,” he said, his face unreadable. 

Dean grinned, and placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t tell your dad, he doesn’t know that I did this.” 

Jack grinned mischeviously, reminding Dean that really, he was just a kid. “I won’t.” He snapped his fingers again, and Dean was back in his cabin, a warm apple pie waiting for him. 

Just as he dug into his second piece, the door swung open, and Cas walked in. 

“Hey there, Sunshine.” 

“Hello, Dean.” 

“What did you do today?” 

Cas paused a moment, realizing that he hadn’t come up with a cover story. “A, uh, little kid. With, uh, cancer. Healed him up so that he can grow up and become a singer.” 

Dean nodded, not noticing Cas’ terrible lying. After a few minutes of silence, Dean spoke up again. 

“I’m headed to Mom’s for dinner tonight, do you want to join us?” 

“Sure,” Cas replied, before realizing that that meant seeing John twice in one day. But if Dean could live with the man for his entire childhood, Cas could surely survive an evening with him. Without any more beatings. 

“I, uh. Think it’s time we told her and… and Dad about us.” Dean looked up at Cas to gauge his reaction. 

Cas did not think it was the best timing given what he had been doing earlier that day, but how could he say no? “I think that sounds like a great idea.” 

Dean grinned, picked up Cas’ hand, and pressed his lips to his knuckles, leaving sticky pie residue. Cas didn’t mind this at all. Dean finished his pie, and they got in the car and drove to the two-story house by the lake. 

Dean didn’t even knock, just barged in and yelled “Hey Mom!” and sat himself down in the kitchen. Mary was tossing a salad, and the smell of burgers wafted in from the grill outside. After a few minutes of small talk, John walked in with a large plate of burgers. As soon as he saw Cas, he fumbled the plate and it tumbled to the floor. 

“Shit!” Dean yelled in surprise. 

“Allow me,” Cas said, stooping down and fixing the plate with magic. He handed it back to John, his face even and expressionless. John tried to do the same, but Cas could see the fear in his eyes. 

“Dad, this is Castiel. Cas, meet John.” 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Cas rumbled. 

John nodded and cleared his throat. “Likewise.” He set the plate of burgers down and sat at Dean’s left side. Cas sat at his right, directly across from John at the little square table. 

“Castiel, I’ve been telling John about what a good friend you’ve been to our boys,” Mary said, setting the salad on the table. 

Dean reached for a burger and hissed softly as he flung it onto the plate. “Hot.” 

“It’s fresh off the grill, Dean, of course it’s hot,” Cas chided fondly. 

“Yeah, well, I thought you made this place free of misery,” Dean retorted playfully. 

“I made this place as Earthlike as possible,” Cas corrected, “so that you could have your perfect life after death.” 

Dean could feel his cheeks heating up, but his father spoke up before he could. 

“You built this place?” John asked incredulously. 

“Yes,” Cas replied, “My hope was to finish rebuilding and then return to Earth, but I guess Dean decided to meet up here instead.” 

“Well, Dean was never really one for orders,” Mary commented. John frowned briefly but did not respond, and instead served himself some salad. 

“Yeah, well, at least Sammy’s still down there, living his best life,” Dean said, raising his beer in a halfhearted toast. 

Mary smiled softly. “I hope he has a nice family down there. Wife, kids, dog. Normal.” 

Dean shook his head. “Nah, he said he’s over trying to be normal. He’s probably with Eileen, taking out vamp nests every other day.” 

“Hopefully he doesn’t get taken out by a rusty nail,” John quipped. Cas’ head snapped up, and John flinched, although Dean didn’t seem to notice as he examined the label on his beer. 

Mary spoke up in an attempt to clear the awkward silence. “Well, anyway, I hope he’s got someone who makes him happy.” 

Dean cleared his throat. “Actually, I have some news for you guys about that.” He reached across the corner of the table and took Cas’ hand. 

Mary grinned. “That’s wonderful!” 

John frowned. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, likely noticing the death glare that the angel was shooting at him from across the table. 

“You know,” Mary continued, attempting to cover for her husband, “I thought you were dating when I first met Cas, and I saw how you two acted around each other. Honestly, it’s about time.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, but Cas could see how happy he was that his mom was happy for him. “Thanks, Mom.” He released Cas’ hand and picked up his burger again. 

They spent the rest of the evening in jovial conversation, though John kept mostly silent. When night came, Dean and Cas drove back to their cabin. 

“That went well,” Dean commented as they stepped through the door. 

“Were you expecting otherwise?” Cas asked, knowing very well why Dean had anticipated worse. 

Dean shrugged, and didn’t answer. He kicked off his boots and turned back to Cas, wrapping his arms around the angel’s waist. Cas waited for him to lean in and kiss him, but he just swayed from side to side, gazing into the angel’s eyes. He began to hum, and Cas realized that Dean was trying to dance with him. Cas matched Dean’s movements, and Dean grinned and began to sing. They danced slowly around the room to Dean’s rendition of The Weight. When he was done with the song, they stood in the kitchen for a few minutes, still swaying. Then they went into the bedroom for the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus: 
> 
> John lay awake in bed, turning over the day’s events in his mind. So the angel had seen all of Dean’s memories of him– memories that had scarred his son– and beaten him nearly to a pulp. Then Dean had declared the angel to be his… partner. 
> 
> Interesting. 
> 
> John was just drifting off to sleep when he jolted awake. He sat upright, looking around the room. 
> 
> “What is it, John?” Mary asked groggily. 
> 
> John sighed. “Nothing. Thought I saw something.” 
> 
> “Goodnight, John.” 
> 
> John lay back down, staring at the ceiling, wide awake again, his heart thumping rapidly. 
> 
> He could have sworn he’d seen a figure in a trench coat standing menacingly by the foot of his bed.


End file.
